1821. 



names, would commuiiieale with them ou 

 the subject : this letter is of course not in- 

 tended for insertion, but to forward the ob- 

 ject which j'our correspondents have in view. 

 I consider it best to let them Icnovv, that they 

 might expect to find support, if they en- 

 deavoured to carry tbeir measures into effect, 

 and presuming you l<now their real names 

 and address, I shall be obliged by your for- 

 warding this to one of them, or favouring 

 me vvitii their address. Thus. Rogers. 



Manor Ftace, Walworth, Jan. 6, 18^1. 



To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine. 



SIR, 



IN answer to your correspondent's (A. C. 

 R. Magazine for March, page 122,) re- 

 quest for a remedy to cure warts, Baile}-, in 

 bis Dictionary, saj's that the milk of spurge 

 dropt on warts eats them away : I have 

 nsed it for myself and family, and recom- 

 mended it to many, and in the course of 



Original Poetry. 45 



about 20 years, never knew it in any one 

 instance to fail of removing them ; there is 

 nothing more to do than break the stem, 

 when a drop of milk W'U issue out, which 

 drop ou the wart, and suffer to remain until 

 dry, and in a few days do the like, and in 

 two or three times they are sure to be re- 

 moved, without the least pain or inconve- 

 nience being felt ; care should be taken 

 not to put any in the inside of the lips, or on 

 the tongue, or such like tender part, lest it 

 might cause to blister. — Allow me also to 

 ask a favour. It is reasonable enough that 

 a stone when burnt into lime should be 

 lighter than before ; but why, if suflfered to 

 remain in the fire longer, and to be what is 

 termed over-burnt, it should again become 

 heavier? I should be very much obliged to 

 any of your correspondents to inform roe 

 through the medium of your useful Maga* 

 zine. R. S. 



ORIGINAL POETRY. 



THE BATTLE. 



AT length a faint and glimmering ray 

 O'er the horizon stealing. 

 The eastern mountains' tops revealing, 



Announced th' approach of day ; 

 But not with cheerful smiles adorning 

 The hills and dales, 

 And fertile vales. 

 The rosy goddess of the morning 



Now led the waj' ; 

 In rainy tears appearing to lament 

 Th' impending evils she could not prevent. 



Beneath his tent, in calm repose. 



Young Henry sleep enjoyed, 

 Nor thoughts of w'ar, or slaughter'd foes, 



His fancied bliss alloyed. 



He dreamed, that, in a shady grove. 

 Through which the moon-beams played, 



Exchanging vows of mutual love. 

 He with his Julia straj-ed. 



While yet, with joy and love o'ercome, 

 He gazed upon her charms. 

 The shrill trumpets sound 

 Echoed loudly around, 

 And the rattling drum 

 Called to arms ! 



The well known signal instantly dispersed 

 The happy visions, which his sleep had 



nursed ; 

 The din of arms, the soldiers busy tread 

 Aroused him quickly from his turfy bed ; 

 With eager haste the crested helm he snatched 

 And to his side the glittering sword attached, 

 But e're his tent he quitted, from his breast 

 His Julia's portraiture he drew, and thus 



addrest; 

 " O charming image of too charming fair. 

 Whose lovely features nought can ever tear 

 From this fond bosom, that, with constant 



sighs, 

 A tribute pays to those jet sparkling eyei, 



Troy ne'er had burned, .flSneas from his 



home 

 An out-cast ne'er had been compelled to 



roam. 

 Had shepherd Paris but beheld thy face. 

 Thy smile enchanting, thy angelic grace ; 

 In vain the rival goddesses had sought 

 To gain the prize by jarring discord brought. 

 To thee the golden apple had been given, 

 And peace had been on earth and peace in 



heaven ! 

 O ! could sounds paint tbe feelings of the 



breast. 

 Could love's emotions be by words exprest, 

 I'd lell thee that I only live for thee. 

 And that thy smile is Paradise to me! 

 Could but thy spirit hover o'er the plain, 

 'Twould see the laurels that my sword shall 



gain; 

 By Him who rules above ! this day shall prove 

 Thy Henry well deserving of thy love. 

 My Julia's name shall be my constant cry, 

 And if I cannot live— for thee I'll die I" 

 A distant murmuring sound 

 Was heard around, 

 As when the gathering storm. 

 In dark tempestuous form. 

 Threatens fair Nature's harmony to wound. 

 The cannons roared, the trumpets blew. 

 Full well the youth the signal knew. 

 Nor loitering staid. 

 But drew his blade. 

 And swift to the battle flew .' 

 There by friends and foes surrounded. 

 Heaps of slain, and heaps of wounded. 

 Mournful cries of warriors dying. 

 Clash of swords, and bullets flying, 

 Horses prancing. 



Loud drums beating, 

 Ranks advancing, 

 Troops retreating, 

 Mangled limbs and streams of blood, 

 Unmoved, he stood ; 



O'er 



